


The K in Kdrama stands for Kaisoo

by at1stsoo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Comedy, Discovering sexual identities, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Kdramas, M/M, Meet-Cute, Neighbors AU, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/at1stsoo/pseuds/at1stsoo
Summary: Kyungsoo’s next door neighbor is crazy about kdramas. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo is crazy about him.





	The K in Kdrama stands for Kaisoo

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Self-prompt #Everlasting  
Warnings: Implied past homophobia, nothing graphic  
Author’s note: Thanks to my darling beta for her encouragement and the kind mods for their work organizing the fest! I tried to work in quick nods to as many EXO Kdramas as I could in this, but ran out of time to fit all of them in. Hope you enjoy <3

Moving boxes are the devil, Kyungsoo has decided. 

Or more specifically, moving boxes full of books. Why did he do this to himself? He’s pretty sure he’s about to fall backwards and die, crushed under the weight of Oscar Wilde’s complete works at the foot of this long stairwell.

No stairs, he’d explicitly requested. Or at least no more than one flight to reach his new home.

His apartment is on the fourth floor, in a building with no elevator. 

He's gonna kill his realtor. Park Flappy-Ears Chanyeol better have a nice dinner tonight because it very well may be his last meal. 

Muttering curses, Kyungsoo tries to counterbalance the weight of the moving box while carefully watching where he steps as he climbs from the third to fourth floor. Sweat drips down his brow, furrowed in a mixture of aggravation and concentration. His forearms are burning with exertion, calves tense from all the climbing he’s already done moving the first half of his stuff into the quiet one-bedroom apartment.

He pushes through the unlocked door of his new home and drops the box in the foyer, letting it slam down on the white tile floor. It’s his own fault, really, for not distributing his book collection across several boxes. Maybe he can leave the other three that are full of novels in the lobby and just take up one book at a time over the course of the next several weeks. He could even hang a sign on the boxes inviting the building occupants to take a novel, courtesy of the new guy. Anything would be better than having to repeat this death march three more times.

Okay, maybe not _anything._ He recalls that his copy of _Simon Vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda_ is sitting on top of the stack in one of the boxes and promptly hustles back down the stairs to retrieve the next box.

An hour later, and he’s finally done. Everything has made it through the doors, though not much further than that, and all Kyungsoo wants to do is chug some water, take a shower, and fall asleep on his couch for a day or two. Even if the current whirlwind of half-opened moving boxes would normally bother him, for now it can wait. It can--

“I can’t believe they killed him! Why??” A tall, bronze-skinned guy bursts through Kyungsoo’s apartment door. What the hell? He’s pretty sure he’d locked it. The unexpected entrance has him stumbling backward and up against the wall in fear. Someone was… murdered? Is this guy connected to the mafia or something?

Great, he’s moved into a drug dealing den. Chanyeol really _does _hate him, doesn’t he.

“I’m sorry?” Kyungsoo stutters out, still plastering himself against the wall as he watches the stranger pace back and forth in his living room now.

“They killed Wang Eun! So unnecessary, don’t you think?”

The man’s eyes are tearing up, and-- yep, he’s probably on drugs. His pacing doesn’t stop as he turns to Kyungsoo expectantly, waiting for his response.

“I’m new here… I don’t know a Wang Eun,” Kyungsoo supplies, praying this gets him off the hook.

“You’re not watching _Moon Lovers_?”

“M-Moon lovers? What’s that?”

The stranger stops pacing to excitedly babble, “It’s a great saeguk, lots of beautiful cinematography, and a really good ensemble of characters but then-” His enthusiasm abruptly drops as he chokes out with a sob, “they killed Wang Eun! A cheap angsty device, no purpose but to make viewers cry, and dammit it’s working!” Tears stream down the guy’s face, and he tries to scrub them away.

“Wait… you’re talking about a Kdrama right now?” Kyungsoo finally catches on. He relaxes, peeling himself off the wall.

“‘Kdrama?’” the guy asks, confused.

Kyungsoo internally slaps himself, reminding his dehydrated brain that he’s back in Korea. “I mean, drama.”

“It’s a drama, yeah, and it had been my favorite ongoing one but _not anymore_!” he rants, hands wiping angrily at his face as the tears keep falling.

Oh geez. Kyungsoo should do something, like offer this guy a seat. Except every jacket he owns is currently littered across the couch. “Uh, are you okay? Let me clear this off so you can sit.” He anxiously scoops up the coats and after spinning this way and that looking for a closet, gives up and lays them on the floor.

The stranger sinks down on the worn sofa, still sniffling.

Surely Korean culture hasn't changed _this _much in four years?? People don’t just trespass into stranger’s apartments and unload all of their feelings now, do they? The guy looks to be about his age, is dressed in dark denim Levis and a nice pink sweater. Nothing about his appearance screams Crazy Person. Deeming him no real threat, Kyungsoo finds himself desperate to simply help the guy feel better, if for no other reason than to avoid him snotting all over the one clunky sofa he owns.

“I’d offer you a tissue, but I just moved in,” Kyungsoo tries to explain, but the words go unacknowledged as the stranger continues to sob. Hurriedly, Kyungsoo rips open a box labeled _Bathroom_ and curses at the cardboard cut he gets on his finger. The injury is not in vain, though: he fishes out a hand towel from the box. “Here.” He offers it to the guy with one hand, sucking on the cut on the other.

The stranger accepts it and starts to wiping his face and blowing his nose.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” the boy hiccups out.

“It’s no bother. I’m getting one for myself anyway,” Kyungsoo reassures him, eyes scanning the room for the box marked _Kitchen_. He opens it and dutifully rinses out two glasses before filling them with water.

The guy has calmed down by the time Kyungsoo sits down on the couch next to him, handing him one of the glasses.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and they both drink them down.

When they’re done, the guy turns to face him with a gentle smile, and for the first time, Kyungsoo can get a proper look at the guy.

Uh oh, he cute.

“Hi, I’m Jongin. I live next door.”

And Kyungsoo's heart takes its first treacherous gallop.

\----------------

It happens again the next day.

After sleeping in late and unpacking for the first half of the day, Kyungsoo plops down at his dining table to get some work done. He’s an English-to-Korean translator for a news site and an occasional freelance writer, when jobs pop up and he can carve out space from his full-time work. (Translating pays the bills but isn't nearly as fulfilling as producing his own stuff.) As a result, he works from home a lot, which has its perks. Being able to remain in boxers and an undershirt all day is a prime one. 

That he promptly learns is not a good option for him, because Jongin keeps popping in with Kdrama _drama_.

“Why do they try to redeem the villain at the last second? Why? I don’t _care_ about his sob story - he was an asshole for thirteen episodes. I’m not about to forgive him in the eleventh hour just because he suddenly shows a sliver of humanity,” Jongin prattles on with no introduction after barging into the apartment without knocking.

Kyungsoo _really_ needs to get the maintenance man to fix his door lock.

His neighbor seems unaffected by the fact that Kyungsoo is currently pantless and continues his rant as Kyungsoo scrambles to cover his lap with a stack of papers, the only thing currently available on his makeshift desk. Kyungsoo can’t look at Jongin properly, blushing and scanning the kitchen area for something, anything, to provide better coverage since his bare thighs are still fully on display.

Where is a damn blanket when you need one? Kyungsoo carefully stands and attempts to sidle toward a yet unpacked box marked_ Odds & Ends_ in hopes the vibrant afghan his American bestie gifted him is in there. He’s almost there when Jongin steps in front of him and asks:

“You wouldn’t forgive him either, would you, Kyungsoo?”

They haven’t been this close while standing before. Kyungsoo gulps, noticing how Jongin is significantly taller and broader than him. The pout on his pretty lips as he peers down at him ought to make Jongin seem much less intimidating.

But the cute factor is _ terribly _intimidating. Kyungsoo averts his eyes, stepping behind the stack of moving boxes as he digs for a blanket like his life depends upon it, feeling his body responding very inappropriately to his neighbor’s presence and innocent question.

What was the question again?

“I-- I don’t know. What drama is this? I don’t think you said,” he stalls, thankfully locating the blanket near the bottom of the box and yanking it out to wrap around his waist.

“Hello, Monster.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes go wide before hurriedly checking to see if the blanket still leaves little to the imagination, but-- Oh that’s actually the name of the drama. “Never seen it,” he breathes with a sigh of relief.

He brews hot tea for both of them while Jongin fills him in, humming in acknowledgment whenever appropriate and fighting back small smiles over how animated the guy gets.

A crush is brewing, too. But Kyungsoo should know better than to let simmering attraction boil over into unnecessary feelings over cute neighbors.

_ Should_ know.

\----------------------

The scenario repeats itself on a near daily basis for the next week. At least Kyungsoo gets wise enough to be fully clothed each morning when he wakes. He starts taking notes in his work docs as to what time Jongin pops in, to see if there’s any predictable pattern to when he comes. But in this day and age of DVR and on demand streaming, it’s not as clockwork as one might expect. Plus, Jongin mentions offhand that he’s a choreographer with a wonky self-employed schedule, so he’s not 9-to-5 busy like other adults, meaning he watches his shows whenever he gets a spate of spare time. It seems like anytime Kyungsoo is starting to feel the discomfort of living alone, Jongin shows up. And he not-so-secretly loves it.

“You’re like my own personal Kramer,” Kyungsoo remarks drolly after Jongin comes bursting through the door on day 6, fully ready to unload more of his big emotions.

“Kramer?” he asks, with an adorably confused head tilt. This giant man puppy…

“From Seinfeld? The American sitcom?” Kyungsoo only gets a lost slow blink in response. “Nevermind. What’s up?”

The interruption of Jongin’s usual excited monologue when he enters the room seems to have reset the boy, like an early 2000s computer struggling to reboot. “You watch American television?” He says it with a hint of awe to his voice, spinning one of Kyungsoo’s kitchen chairs around and sitting on it backwards. The way his long legs spread apart to let him sit this way draws Kyungsoo’s eye for a half-second too long before he scolds himself and looks away.

“Uh, not regularly anymore. But I did a lot while I was there,” he explains.

“You lived in America? Why didn’t I know this?”

“Well it, um, never came up.”

Jongin glances down, looking sheepish, as he runs his fingers through his hair. (Hair that looks so soft and touchable, ugh.) “I’m sorry, I haven’t given you much space to share, have I? Okay, _Missing 9_ can wait - today is about you. Tell me about yourself.”

Oh no. Abort. Kyungsoo feels the flush creep over him as Jongin stares with rapt attention, ready to hang on his every word. Jeez, it’s a lot more intimidating to be the object of Jongin’s attention than to receive his verbose ramblings about dramas. His warm, doting eyes are enough to fluster Kyungsoo and make him clear his throat a few times before answering.

“Uh… I lived in America before I moved into this apartment.”

“Like, your whole life? Oh gosh, do you want me to show you around Seoul?” Jongin grabs his hand and starts to pull him up out of his seat.

“No, no. I was born here.” Kyungsoo grips his chair and sits back down, trying not to tremble as he stares at Jongin’s hand, which still has a captivating grip on his wrist. It feels so nice, lingering for a second longer before its slides away, fingertips gliding over his pulse point soft as silk as they leave. “I just… needed to go for a few years,” Kyungsoo mumbles out. He takes a breath and quickly skips over the _why _before Jongin can ask, knowing for sure _that _topic needs to stay dormant for now (or probably forever, in Jongin’s case). “I was majoring in English and journalism at Hanyang University, and in the middle of my last year, I found a job in New York so I left, kinda in a hurry.” There, that’s honest enough.

“What was the job?”

“Doing translations for a news station.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“Not really,” Kyungsoo says with a half-smile. “I’m not in a position where I get to investigate a story or report on my own; I just translate what other reporters write. Google Translate gets more sophisticated daily and will eventually put me out of work,” he jokes wryly, and Jongin gives a polite snicker. “But it’s okay money. And I’m able to work remotely now that I’ve been with them for awhile, so I moved back. Anyway--” he clears his throat, ready to get the focus off of himself and onto something else. “What did you want to tell me? When you came over?”

Jongin chews on the corner of his lip, like he’s debating whether or not to let go of ‘Learn Do Kyungsoo time.’ Ultimately, maybe because Kyungsoo is fidgeting uncomfortably under his gaze, he lets it go. Jongin takes a big gulp of air and launches into his kdrama tirade. “Well…”

Kyungsoo listens, letting Jongin’s pretty voice wash over him as he discusses his theories over what has happened to some of the characters involved in a plane crash. His voice has a warm timbre in it, one that’s so inviting and cozy. A small smile plays on Kyungsoo’s lips as he enjoys the lyrical sounds and Jongin’s animated face as he breaks down the tragedy of some drummer named Yeol.

Jongin ends his spiel with “You agree, his murderer had to be one of them, right?” 

Kyungsoo snorts. “I can’t render an informed opinion, Jongin. You know I don’t_ really _know any of these dramas you talk about. Maybe you should just watch the shows over here.” 

Wait. Why did he just say that. Kyungsoo looks at Jongin with wide eyes, like his _neighbor _was the one to make this suggestion, because there’s no sane reason for those words to have come out of Kyungsoo’s mouth. What the fuck is he doing.

“That’s a brilliant idea. We can be binge buddies! Okay, we have a lot of ground to cover tonight because tomorrow at 10pm is when the next episode airs. Let me go grab my laptop and I’ll be right back!” Jongin cheers, bouncing out of the apartment like a hurricane of happiness before Kyungsoo even realizes what’s happened.

The door slams shut, and an uncontrollable grin spreads across Kyungsoo’s face. They’re going to stay up all night. Together. Watching this drama.

What was it called again? Who cares.

He’s got popcorn going in the microwave and two glasses of water poured when Jongin comes strolling back into the apartment and settles in on the couch. Jongin sniffs the air and his eyes brighten up.

“Movie butter popcorn?”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says. “Otherwise, what’s even the point?”

Jongin cracks a wide smile. “I already knew I liked you, but this confirms that we were meant to be watch bros.”

Kyungsoo’s smile flickers slightly at the ‘bros’ reminder. Right. Keep it in check.

“So this drama… it’s good?” He sets their waters on the coffee table and goes to retrieve the popcorn from the beeping microwave.

“It’s pretty solid,” Jongin explains from the couch and starts reading him the official summary from the TV network.

Kyungsoo opens the hot bag of buttery deliciousness and has a decision to make. He stares in his cupboards: two individual bowls, or one big communal bowl? His hand hovers over the small bowls before compulsively grabbing the big wooden one.

So he wants a chance to graze fingers with cute neighbor guy, who wouldn’t.

He sits down on his couch a respectable distance away from Jongin, placing the snack bowl between them. With a giddy noise, Jongin presses play on the laptop set on the coffee table and digs in for a healthy handful the same time Kyungsoo does.

The brief brush of their knuckles sends a tingle up Kyungsoo’s arm and a smile blooming across his face, which he’s quick to hide by shoving the popcorn in his mouth. They only brushed fingers, not dicks. Man, he needs to get out more…

It’s only the opening credits, and Jongin is already babbling along, pointing out which actors and actresses are good and already have a great body of work. Kyungsoo listens quietly, nodding when warranted, and enjoys the happy buzz of energy next to him as Jongin chitters away. 

“It’s a little chilly in here. Do you have a blanket?” he asks.

“Uh, sure.” Kyungsoo twists around and pulls one out of a storage ottoman next to the couch. He hands it to Jongin, and what happens next is so ninja fast, he’s thinks he must’ve done more than blink.

With the finesse of a Michelin star maître d′, Jongin picks up the popcorn bowl between them, scooches right up against Kyungsoo’s side, and throws the blanket across both their laps before settling the bowl back on top, balanced on both of their now-touching thighs. “Do you startle easily?”

“Kinda?” Kyungsoo squeaks, heart racing a mile a minute as Jongin basically burrows into his side, seemingly oblivious to the gay panic alarm blaring in Kyungsoo’s head as he gestures back to the show’s dramatic opening.

Jongin giggles. “Uh oh, me too. I love suspense but I’m super jumpy. Sorry not sorry if I set you off, too.”

“It’s… fine.” Kyungsoo focuses in on the show like he’s going to be tested on every detail at the gates of the afterlife, trying to distract his mind from the question running through his head in bright letters like a news headline around Times Square. _Maybe he’s gay, too? _

“Umph, Lee Sun-bin is so hot. She was born exactly a week before me - think I’d have a shot with her if I opened with that at a fanmeet?” Jongin jokes.

The Times Square headline in Kyungsoo’s mind shifts. _ BREAKING NEWS: This is Korea, they’re never gay :) _It’s fine, this is fine. He needs a friend more than a love affair, anyway, right now.

Bro-mode fully engaged, he replies drolly. “Birthdays a week apart? I mean, it’s a factoid, but it’s pretty lame.”

Jongin tosses a popcorn kernel at his face playfully. “Alright, I’ll work on refining it. When’s your birthday, by the way?”

“January 12th.”

Jongin gasps, lifting his head off Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “I’m January 14th! What a happy time of celebration that would be - a day for you, a day for us, a day for me." He leans in closer to whisper, with a dazzling smile at Kyungsoo that almost knocks the wind out of him. “It’s fate.” Then, the smile morphs to a cheeky smirk as he leans back. “Still think birthday openers are lame?”

Kyungsoo tears his eyes away from Jongin’s gorgeous face and back to the screen to watch the show. “It’s less lame,” he says, noncommittally. “Fine, maybe you have a shot with Subin.”

“Sun-bin,” Jongin corrects him.

“Whatever. Are we watching the show or working on your hapless flirt game?” Kyungsoo teases.

Jongin pokes his side in a ticklish spot, which leads to Kyungsoo yelping and almost knocking the popcorn bowl on the floor. After a few shared giggles, they settle back in and Jongin catches him back up on what he’s missed because of his tangent. Jongin talks over half the show, and while Kyungsoo would normally be annoyed by this habit if it were someone else, he finds Jongin’s commentary elevates the viewing experience. Jongin is witty and insightful, talking about story construction and cinematography in a way that makes the drama seem deeper and more interesting. He gets totally immersed in the show, not afraid to yell at the characters when they're being frustrating dimwits or cry at touching moments. Though not an outwardly emotional guy himself, Kyungsoo tentatively pats Jongin's back in comfort during these emotional arcs, and Jongin cuddles closer against him in appreciation of the support.

They churn through six episodes, until Kyungsoo notices Jongin has grown uncharacteristically silent. A quick check shows that he’s fallen asleep on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, body sagged against him. With a deep breath, Kyungsoo rests his head against the back of the couch, staring up at his ceiling. He should wake Jongin up. Tell him to go home.

But then all the warmth and companionship would go with him. Ultimately, he doesn’t have the willpower in him. Kyungsoo closes his eyes, and lets himself drift off to dreamland as well.

\--------------------

Watching shows together becomes an almost daily ritual. Jongin is clingy and not shy about it, having not even flinched upon waking up still plastered against Kyungsoo the morning after their first _Missing 9_ sleepover. He just stretched, asked what time it was, and said he had a class to teach in an hour so he needed to go.

The subsequent binge sessions are the same. Kyungsoo provides the popcorn, Jongin provides the commentary, and they snuggle together under the colorful afghan for three or four hours until Jongin either has to go to work or occasionally falls asleep on him. 

It’s delightful. Which means Kyungsoo is nervous about it. In the US, this kind of cuddling clearly meant something. But here in Korea, it's so much harder to discern...

No, actually, it's really not. Jongin is clearly into girls, fawning over actresses doing aegyo while Kyungsoo fake gags at their cringy cuteness and laughs when he gets a good-natured shove for it. No, Kyungsoo is just too hopeful and maybe a little too in love with the dip in Jongin’s upper lip or cut of his jaw... fuck.

At least he’s discovered that Jongin’s a deep sleeper one afternoon when he reluctantly _had_ to get up or his bladder would burst. He tried to carefully slide down and off the couch like melting water, and Jongin’s dead weight plopped comfortably on the sofa with the guy sleeping through like a champ. From that point onward, Kyungsoo typically enjoyed several minutes of snuggles, openly admiring Jongin’s smooth skin and sharp cheekbones, before slipping out to get work done on a translation assignment while Jongin napped. The guy slept odd hours sometimes, explaining that he’d occasionally have to be on set for a music video shoot at 4am for a group he trains, so he learned how to grab a few winks whenever he could.

Even after a month of their semi-predictable pattern of snacks, shows, and sleep, they don’t talk much about their social lives, which suits Kyungsoo just fine. (Because he has no social life.) Discussion revolves squarely around dramas or occasionally work, and even then, it’s usually a stray detail here or there that comes out while talking about scheduling their next binge session. Kyungsoo tries to keep his interest in Jongin and his work with high-profile celebs toned down even if he is super intrigued: He doesn’t want to pry.

So it’s odd one night that Jongin waltzes through his door with a bottle of soju dangling from his hand and a pronouncement that “it’s high time we get drunk together, hyung!” Dazed, Kyungsoo closes his laptop and simply stares while Jongin rifles through his cabinets to find suitable glasses for them to drink from.

“Where are your shot glasses, Soo?”

“I… don’t have any.”

“What??”

“I threw them all out at the end of college.”

Jongin looks at him like he has three heads. “While it’s true that I’ve never been to America, I’m pretty positive they still take shots there.”

“Yeah, but packing glassware is a bitch for an overseas move.”

“Fair,” Jongin says, settling on pulling out two normal sized water glasses. “But that means your shots just got five times larger,” he teases, pouring enough soju in each to fill the glass half full.

Oh boy. Kyungsoo stares at his drink, and apprehensively back at Jongin, who holding his up for toasting.

“Come on, I wanna get closer with you, hyung. Plus, we’re just staying in and watching that new drama. What’s the worst that could happen?” Jongin asks with a friendly smile.

Kyungsoo refuses to let his brain answer that question. Instead, he clinks glasses with Jongin, and throws back the soju.

The buzz sets in rapidly, like a pleasant tingle under Kyungsoo’s skin. Everything is funny for the first ten minutes or so, and he laughs as Jongin recounts a time he got wasted at the end of high school and nearly burned down his parents’ kitchen trying to make roasted sweet potatoes. Kyungsoo shares his own drunken cooking escapades from college, that sometimes resulted in a stroke of culinary genius but more often ended with a gooey, greyish slop because he got too zealous in adding extra ingredients to make the flavors pop.

They flop onto the couch, and Jongin actively hushes Kyungsoo. “The show’s starting!” he says, a light slur to his words.

“You’re shushing _me? _That’s rich,” Kyungsoo says sarcastically.

“Shhhhhhhhhh,” Jongin says again, sloppily putting a finger to Kyungsoo’s lips. “It’s the first episode, I wanna hear. Beginnings are important.”

The feel of Jongin’s finger pressed against his lips is enough to fully silence Kyungsoo, making him gulp and try to will back some sobriety to avoid doing something stupid (like sucking on it). Thankfully, Jongin removes the finger a few delayed seconds later, falling slack and laying his head in Kyungsoo’s lap.

They watch the opening scenes in relative silence since Jongin seems really into this one and in his tipsy state can’t give his typical running commentary while also maintaining focus on the story. By the middle of the show, though, much of the monster-sized shot they had has worn off, and he’s back to his chatty self, shifting around to sit up next to Kyungsoo on the couch.

“Hey, hyung. What’s a secret wish you have? One you’ve never told anyone?”

Kyungsoo’s mind races over several recent ones this week:

_ I wish Jongin’s shirt was less see-through. _

_ I wish his feet weren’t so cold under the blanket we’re sharing. _

_ I wish my chest didn’t clench each time I saw him. _

_ I wish he’d never leave. _

He closes the large catalog of Wishes For Jongin in his mental library, knowing he’s way too chicken shit to ever share any of those, even while under the influence.

“I’ve always wanted to have a driver waiting for me at the airport with one of those fancy cards with my name on it.”

“What?”

“You know, a chauffeur with ‘Mr. Do’ sign.”

Jongin chuckles fondly. “Why? Everyone knows the limo bus from Incheon is the way to go.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I don’t know. Saw it in a movie once, as a kid, and it just… stuck. Maybe some childhood dreams never die.”

“And you said you don’t like melodramas. That sounds sentimental as hell, Soo,” Jongin pokes his cheek, and Kyungsoo bats his hand away, sticking his tongue out for good measure. Undeterred, Jongin just smiles and leans in closer. “Say more, I think I like Sentimental Soo.”

“I guess… I guess I think it’d make me feel special? It seems like only people who’ve _made it_ in life are important enough to get chauffeur's with signs, a designated person that’s willing to wait, just for them. I don’t know.” He fiddles with a stray thread on the collar of Jongin’s sweater, carefully knotting it so it won’t unravel.

Jongin sits back a little to look at his face properly. “Wait, who picked you up from the airport when you moved back to Seoul?”

“No one.” Kyungsoo takes a big handful of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth. Jongin looks so sad all of a sudden, watching him carefully. He will not let him pity him, he won’t. “I took the limo bus,” he says as if it was obvious, and they simultaneously burst into laughter. They laugh so hard that he nearly chokes on a popcorn kernel, and Jongin has to pound his back to help him cough it back up while still in a giggle fit. 

Once the kernel-of-doom is resolved, Kyungsoo turns the original question back on Jongin, feeling a thrill at actually getting to know something so personal about him. “What about you? What’s your secret wish that you’ve never told anyone?”

“Oh me? I’ve always wanted to talk to animals,” Jongin says, a hint of tipsy-ness suddenly returning to his demeanor. “That’d be totally dope.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes bug out. “You’re giving me a Dr. Doolittle wish?? I thought you meant something _serious, _you brat!” he yelps, taking a throw pillow from the couch and smacking it into Jongin’s chest. When the boy laughs, Kyungsoo bites his lower lip to keep the facade of indignation and pops him with the pillow again.

“I never said it had to be realistic, I just asked for a secret wish!” he retorts, taking the pillow in hand and whopping it back at Kyungsoo. They end up in a goofy tug of war over the pillow before Jongin pulls the blanket up and starts rubbing it into Kyungsoo’s hair so that it’s getting static-y and standing on end. Between the laughter and wrestling for control of their plush ‘weapons,’ they fall off the sofa and onto the floor. Kyungsoo attempts to get him in a headlock, but they roll a few times until Jongin winds up on top and proclaims, “You’re mine now, Soo!”

And Kyungsoo feels the wind knocked completely out of him, realizing Jongin is straddling his hips, strong arms pinning down his own on either of his head. His soft brown hair frames his face as he leans over Kyungsoo, his beautiful smile practically paralyzing. Kyungsoo stills, giving up completely and letting him attack his sides with tickles.

He’s right. Kyungsoo is totally his now.

\---------------------

Kyungsoo knows from his twenty-six trips around the sun that whenever things seem to be going well, the universe gets wise to his happiness and swoops in to fuck it up. So he should be ready for the inevitable mishaps waiting around the bend, that’s his life motto: _Prepare to be disappointed. _But the cyclone of cheerfulness that is Kim Jongin breezing through his apartment all the time made him forget this reality, and he is caught unawares when it strikes.

The day is doomed from the moment he wakes up. A thunderstorm is rolling through the city, amping up a pressure headache, and while it might make for an okay day to simply stay in bed and sleep, it’s the one day Kyungsoo absolutely_ can’t _stay in bed. For starters, there’s no food in his cabinet. He’s been playing chicken with starvation for several days and now it’s truly at a tipping point. Nevermind the fact that a big reason for this is he keeps making food for two but buying for one; anticipating needing to feed both himself and Jongin is a step too far into expectations, and he refuses to let himself _expect_ Jongin’s presence every day. He knows better. He built his life around another boy’s presence once before and has seen how that works out.

Aside from not starving, Kyungsoo also desperately needs to get a work assignment completed by no later than 8am EST, meaning he’s only got until 9pm his time. And yeah, he could’ve been working on it earlier, but he was too busy binge watching Reply 1997 with Jongin last weekend because Jongin was practically offended he had not seen ‘the modern classic.’

Kyungsoo bundles up in his black sweats and hoodie, taking his umbrella with him as he heads to the nearest grocer. It lasts all of five minutes before an aggressive tree branch dips low from the fierce winds and tears a huge hole in the fabric. Kyungsoo tries to hold up the floppy black material, but it’s no use. The water pours down through the opening. He junks it in a trash can on his way into the store. 

Thirty minutes later, he leaves the place 60,000 won poorer, and the rain has somehow gotten worse. By the time he’s back to the apartment, trudging up those perpetually annoying stairs to the fourth floor, he’s soaked to the bone and shivering. Great, now he’s going to catch a cold. His plan to kill Chanyeol somehow got lost in his list of priorities over the past month, but it jumps right back to the top of his to-do list as one of the wet plastic grocery bags slips from Kyungsoo’s hand, and his fresh vegetables go tumbling down to the third floor landing._ FUCK. _This is what one gets for attempting healthy living.

Muttering curses, he throws the cold items into his fridge and leaves the rest sit on the counter for later. He _has _to get writing.

It’d be one thing if it was a standard translation piece, but this time, his editor was actually going to allow him to _contribute_ to the article, trusting him to add at least two paragraphs of what she dubbed “local reaction” to the Trump + Kim Jong-un negotiations. Kyungsoo isn’t sure how many sentences or paragraphs will get kept for the final article, but he’ll be credited as a contributor and not just a translator if what he writes is used. This is an important break for him, and he gets increasingly frustrated with himself for having put it off like a dumbass uni student. He’s not a kid anymore, he should _know better by now. _

It’s 7:55pm, and he’s still only got three original sentences that he’s added to the translated version. Three fucking insipid sentences, one hundred words of garbage. He grabs his computer screen and shakes it, as if the characters will assemble themselves into something Pulitzer Prize winning with enough physical force. He lets out a long grunt of frustration.

It’s at this moment that his front door bangs open. “We’ve got three minutes, cue it up, Soo!” Jongin’s chipper voice rings out.

Face in his hands, Kyungsoo doesn’t bother to look up. “Not tonight, Jongin. I have to work.”

“Work schmirk - Wondeuk’s future hangs in the balance! Work later,” he dismisses. Like it’s just that easy.

“I can’t do it later. I have a deadline.”

“Then ask for an extension,” Jongin says glibly, closing Kyungsoo’s laptop before noticing the grocery bags in the kitchen and bouncing over to dig through them. “It’s not every day in kdrama that someone emerges from their fog of amnesia.” He pauses, looking up thoughtfully. “Actually wait. That’s not true, it is almost every day. _BUT_ it’s almost never the prince of Joseon who’s recovering.”

Kyungsoo feels his frustration growing as he immediately re-opens his laptop. Normally, Jongin’s dedication and obsession with a show is endearing but right now it’s just a major pain in his ass. “I’m serious, Jongin you need to lea--”

“Oooo, you sprang for the expensive soybeans this time! Niiice, can you make jiggae?” he asks with bright eyes.

The way he’s holding the whole bag of beans like he has a rightful claim on it pushes Kyungsoo right over the edge from tense to full-blown irate. “Have you listened to a single word I said? I_ can’t _right now. I have _work_, you know a REAL job with a boss and shit. And no I can’t ask for an extension just because you want me to cook you food and watch some plothole riddled drama with you while you fanboy over the characters and talk up how pretty they are!” He snatches the soybeans out of Jongin’s frozen hand.

“Whoa. Kyungsoo, I didn’t think--”

“You didn’t think what? That it’d be a big deal? For me to drop everything each time you come over? To take care of you?” Kyungsoo feels almost disassociated in this moment, surrounded entirely by his rage, barely noticing the color slowly drain out of Jongin’s honey-toned face before it flushes a stormy red, instead.

“Didn’t realize I was such a burden. Why didn’t you say anything before?” he asks, a sharp edge to his words.

“What was I supposed to say? Stop breaking and entering? Most adults understand that without needing it spelled out for them,” Kyungsoo spits. “Am I responsible for teaching you how to be a grown up, too?”

“Hey!” Jongin snaps back. “You invited _me _to come watch shows here. I didn’t realize I overstayed my welcome. If you didn’t want me around, you could’ve told me any time under kinder circumstances, but you haven’t. If you think I’m such a _bother _and the shows suck, why have you let me keep making an ass out of myself by coming over? What are you getting out of this?”

Oh shit. There’s the question he can’t answer. Kyungsoo’s dirty little secret, his outrageously large, ever-growing crush on his hot neighbor. His hot neighbor who brushes away the loneliness with such ease the moment he blows through Kyungsoo’s door. Kyungsoo feels the instant regret of lashing out, his heart softening and sinking as he fumbles for words that can undo the last few minutes.

“I thought we were friends,” Jongin says quietly, staring at the counter, voice barely above a whisper.

“We are,” Kyungsoo tries, reaching toward Jongin but hesitating, not trusting his hands to grab in the right way that says _friends_, _binge buddies, _and not more. Much… more.

Jongin looks him square in the eyes, a set determination in his face. “Yeah well come over when you remember how to be one. If you even know which door is fucking mine, since you’ve never bothered to come to my place to see me, not even once.” And with that, he turns and leaves, slamming the door so hard it rattles on its hinges.

Fuck. _Fuck, _Kyungsoo realizes in stunned silence. He really hasn’t ever… been the one to go to Jongin. He thought that was best, to not pressure him to be his friend, to not impose upon him, but having the situation described from Jongin’s perspective… he seems like a total ass, not showing any initiative to foster their relationship, only being reactive rather than proactive.

He tosses the bag of soybeans back on the counter in defeat and notices the stove clock: 8:10pm. Running a hand over his face, he shelves his feelings and falls back into his chair with a plop, determined to at least finish the work that he decided was worth starting a fight with his only friend in Seoul.

\--------------------

He knows he can’t wait too long. More than a day and it’ll only get more awkward to approach Jongin and apologize.

He makes American-style biscuits from scratch the next morning, as a peace offering. With half a dozen wrapped in a warm towel inside a serving dish, Kyungsoo inches out of his apartment and stares at the two doors on either side of him. He racks his brain, trying to think of any past conversation with Jongin that would’ve given a hint to which side he lived on… and comes up empty. Jongin could live behind either one, or hell, he might be the door across the hall. ‘Next door’ is a general term, not an exact geolocation. 

It’s the worst feeling, knowing he’s going to have to gamble. His social anxiety is spiking, but the biscuits are getting cold and he needs to get this over with. Kyungsoo walks up to the door on his left and knocks.

There’s no answer.

Kyungsoo checks his watch again. 9am. There’s a chance Jongin is sleeping in and can’t hear him, so he bangs on the door louder.

The door to the_ right _of Kyungsoo’s apartment pops open, and Jongin pokes his head out. “She’s already left for work, but you can leave your gift for your new bff by her door. No one on this floor will bother it,” he says, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against his door frame.

“I don’t know her!” Kyungsoo clarifies, abandoning the wrong door and feeling mortified he’s been caught not knowing which door was Jongin’s. His mouth goes dry as he takes in Jongin’s messy bedhead, hair defying gravity in every direction, and his thick arms on display since he’s clad in a sleeveless white tank top. Kyungsoo shuffles over to him nervously. “Th-these are for you,” he explains. “I didn’t… realize you were on this side.”

“Yeah, my kitchen shares a wall with your bedroom. I have to put up with the sound of you jacking off at night if I get up to get myself a midnight snack.”

Kyungsoo drops the serving dish out of pure mortification, but luckily Jongin was already reaching out to accept it and he catches it before it shatters on the ground. “Wha-what??”

“I was kidding, but interesting that you find it plausible you could be overheard. Loud wanker, huh?” Jongin chuckles and paws through the towel to get to the biscuits while Kyungsoo tries to extinguish the fire he can feel on his ears.

“Yah,” he scolds Jongin, swatting at his arm. “We’re in the_ hallway_.”

Jongin rolls his eyes and grabs him by the front of his shirt, tugging him into his apartment and shutting the door. “There’s not even anyone out there but fine, you big baby.” The way Jongin’s hands twist in his shirt and so easily manhandle him into the entryway makes sparks in Kyungsoo’s gut go off. With Jongin being so wild and unpredictable in everyday situations, he can only imagine what he’d be like in b--

Like a record scratch, Kyungsoo forces his racing mind to come to an abrupt stop. What was happening? Right, Jongin was teasing him. (In more ways than one.) At least this means he’s not _too_ mad at Kyungsoo, if he can feel comfortable cracking masturbation jokes. 

“I came to say I’m sorry about yesterday.” Kyungsoo cuts straight to the chase. “And all the days before that when I didn’t come over. I didn’t mean to be uncaring. I was just… trying to avoid seeming pushy.”

Jongin chews on a biscuit, eyes dropping into the bowl as he replies softly. “So do you think I’m pushy?”

“What? No! I didn’t mean it like that. You’re great. I’m… a mess.” Kyungsoo shrugs and gives a self-deprecating snicker, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Jongin frowns at this. “No you aren’t. After all, you have a _real_ job,” he teases, hurling Kyungsoo’s words from yesterday back at him with a playful kick to Kyungsoo’s slippers.

“I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. For ignoring what you said yesterday. It _was _pushy of me.”

They stand there in Jongin’s entryway, awkwardly enveloped in silence for several seconds. Jongin has finished his first biscuit and is only staring at Kyungsoo, eyes thoughtful.

“So… are we good?” Kyungsoo asks, trying to sound casual, as if his nerves aren’t thrumming throughout his chest.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Jongin pulls him into a hug with one arm, the other hand still preoccupied holding the biscuit bowl. 

Oh God, it feels so nice, to be pressed against his warm chest. Kyungsoo hesitantly wraps his arms Jongin’s waist, giving a quick squeeze and anticipating that he’ll let go any moment and end this brohug, but…

He doesn’t. The arm wrapped around Kyungsoo tightens, and he feels Jongin curl his fingers around his shoulder, tugging him closer. Jongin hooks his chin over the top of Kyungsoo’s head, the embrace feeling intensely intimate. They hold each other for a few seconds longer, until Jongin tilts his head to the side and presses his cheek against Kyungsoo’s hair. It’s so fond, Kyungsoo has to swallow a pining whine, turning his own face so his nose grazes along Jongin’s collarbone for a split second before he lets go and forces himself to take a step back.

“Sorry I missed the show last night. I’ll-- I’ll catch up before next week’s episode.”

“I didn’t watch it either,” Jongin explains.

“What?”

Jongin shrugs. “I was in a bad mood. Had a fight with a friend,” he snarks, sticking his tongue out at Kyungsoo who chuckles. There’s a quiet beat before Jongin says, “Wasn’t the same without you.”

“Do you... wanna watch it now?” Kyungsoo offers.

Jongin’s face lights up. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Kyungsoo moves to step further into the apartment but Jongin stops him with a firm hand to the chest.

“Not here. Your place.” He’s already opening his door up again and steering Kyungsoo out.

“Wha- but you complained I never come over?”

“That was more like a metaphor for you not taking initiative. I don’t actually need you to come _into _my apartment,” Jongin explains, pushing the both of them into the hallway and shutting the door behind him. “Yours is way better.”

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes suspiciously as he allows Jongin to keep a warm hold on his arm, tugging them to into the familiar apartment next door. “Just how messy _is _it in there?”

Jongin laughs at being found out. “SO messy. You don’t wanna know, hyung, trust me.” He maneuvers the two of them onto the couch in their usual spaces and hands Kyungsoo his laptop, draping himself against Kyungsoo’s shoulder and patiently waiting for him to cue up the show.

With a contented hum and nerves finally at peace again with Jongin pressed to his side, Kyungsoo is happy to oblige.

“Okay, Wondeuk. Get your shit together.”

\------------------

A week later, Kyungsoo is sitting on the couch, Jongin’s legs draped over his lap. He’s gently massaging Jongin’s calves because he had complained about cramping from the afternoon’s choreography workshop he gave for some boyband, and the noises Jongin makes as he works the tightness out of the muscle behind his knee is… bordering on lewd. Kyungsoo actually eyes him with feigned annoyance and turns the volume on the TV up to drown it out (and save his sanity). Jongin laughs at his faux pissy reaction. 

“I promise I’ll be quieter - turn it back down! I wanna talk to you,” Jongin shouts over the blaring TV. They’re waiting for the _Memories of the Alhambra_ episode to come on. Kyungsoo acquiesces and lowers the volume back to a reasonable level.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask, why’d you go to the US in the first place if you didn't want to do translation for a living?” he asks out of the blue.

“I told you, it was a good job.”

“I get that, but so far away for a ‘good job’ you didn’t really want?”

It’s a fair point. Kyungsoo switches to Jongin’s other calf, eliciting an initial yelp followed by a relaxed _ahhhh. _“I needed to get away for awhile,” he says evasively.

“Four years is a long fucking while.”

“...yeah.” Kyungsoo pretends he’s having to focus on the tension in Jongin’s leg, but suddenly, Jongin is sitting up, pulling his legs out of Kyungsoo’s lap and removing his excuse for distraction. Jongin scooches up against him, staring him in the eye with a conspiratorial look. 

“What’d you do, Soo? Run over a puppy? Rob a bank?”

Kyungsoo snorts. “No.”

“Well you were running away from _something. _”

Kyungsoo chews on his lower lip, nervous enough that they’re broaching this topic that he forgets to deny the accusation.

“What happened?”

“Oh look, the show’s starting,” he announces, reaching for the remote to turn up the volume again. Jongin snatches it out of his hand and hits the pause button. 

“It’ll wait.”

Kyungsoo turns his head away from the TV and back toward Jongin’s attentive stare, swallowing. He debates telling him, but Jongin is just so dangerously close. What if… what if he reacts poorly and never comes this close again?

“Tell me,” Jongin encourages with a lazy grin. “You know you wanna.”

And while the majority of Kyungsoo absolutely does _not _want to, he realizes he can’t run away from this forever if they’re going to be true friends. “I… I got drunk at a party.”

“College kids _are _known to do that,” Jongin says. “And?”

“And…” he can’t believe he’s telling him, but unless he’s prepared to just outright lie, he’s reached the point of no return. “I kissed a boy.” He gets a vacant stare. “And I liked it.”

Jongin’s eyes crinkle up with his smile. “What are you, Korean Katy Perry?” 

_ Whop. _Kyungsoo smacks a giggling Jongin with a throw pillow. 

“Seriously? That's it??” Jongin asks between repeated whops from the pillow. “I thought you were gonna say you drove drunk or broke up your best friend’s engagement or something!”

“It was a big deal! It… wasn’t well-received,” he says, relenting with the pillow attack now that Jongin has stopped laughing. The boy has a faraway look in his eyes again, mind likely racing a mile a minute as he seems to process this. Kyungsoo gulps, feeling like his fate hangs in the balance as Jongin quietly contemplates. It's nerve-wracking, having Jongin keep his thoughts to himself rather than letting them tumble helter skelter out of his mouth as usual.

“So you got rejected. It happens.” Jongin says softly, taking one of Kyungsoo's hands in his and giving it a comforting squeeze, then picking up the remote with the other. Kyungsoo watches, befuddled, as Jongin just turns back to the drama before them, like nothing happened. Not moving away on the couch, settled in shoulder to shoulder with him.

“You're boring, hyung. I expected a more tragic backstory. Popcorn?” Jongin offers him a piece nonchalantly, holding it up to Kyungsoo’s lips.

Kyungsoo lets out a short exhale of disbelief and then accepts the popcorn, careful not to nip Jongin’s fingertips with his teeth as he bites into it. Acceptance. He’s been offered acceptance. It feels foreign, but in the best way. Kyungsoo is beyond grateful that Jongin treats the news that he likes men as inconsequential as him saying he likes jjajangmyeon or something.

They watch the show in their normal fashion for the next half-hour or so, until out of nowhere, Jongin speaks up.

“I'm not gay.”

“...o-okay?”

“I think Park Shinhye is hot as fuck,” he gestures to the actress on screen.

“Well, she is. I mean objectively speaking, she's very beautiful.” Kyungsoo easily admits.

“But you get no urge to bang,” Jongin says casually, like he’s just confirming the time of day.

“Nope.”

“Not even a quiver down here?” He walks his fingers slowly up Kyungsoo's thigh, from knee until he’s almost at his crotch and Kyungsoo finally reacts.

“Yah!” He yelps a little louder than necessary. He bats away Jongin’s hand and flushes red. Great, now he has a very scared boner. He moves the popcorn bowl to shield it from view. “What’s with the Q&A?”

Jongin laughs at his overreaction and shrugs. “Sorry, I can keep questions to myself.” He moves his hand back onto Kyungsoo’s knee, patting it twice in a comforting fashion.

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo mumbles. “I just… wasn’t prepared, I guess. We haven’t really talked about,” _quivering boners... _“uhh, much personal stuff before. Aside from the one time we got drunk.”

“Well, how about you try it? What’s something you want to know about me?” 

Kyungsoo thinks a moment before asking, “Why did you come barreling into my apartment the first day I moved in?”

“Taemin told me to.”

Taemin? Who the fuck is Taemin. Kyungsoo doesn’t say it aloud but the look on his face must convey the sentiment.

“He used to live here before you. Left me to move to Busan for work. His only advice was to treat the new guy like it was still him. Cause I, uh... don't make friends easily. I'm shy.”

Kyungsoo gives him his very best _Come the fuck on_ stare.

“No really,” Jongin insists. “It’s why I choreograph but never perform. Can’t handle stranger’s eyes on me. I'm awful at first meeting people. They called me "slow to warm up" as a kid. It was supposedly cute and endearing at age 3. No one has time for that bullshit at 25 though,” he shrugs, and just for a fleeting moment, Kyungsoo can see the vulnerability of a younger Jongin sitting on the couch next to him.

He rubs Jongin’s thigh comfortingly. “I used to be more social. But having your friends and family suddenly decide you’re irredeemable... has a side effect of anxiety and reclusiveness, I guess. So, I get you.”

Jongin beams at him. “Well, let others be social. The two of us can just stay home and watch shows together.” He holds out a pinky, waiting for Kyungsoo to pinky promise with him.

The corner of Kyungsoo’s mouth tugs up into a smile as he links their pinkies. After a quick squeeze, he tries to let go, but Jongin whines.

“No, hyung. You gotta seal it with a kiss.”

What.

“Like this,” Jongin demonstrates, bringing their joined hands up between their faces. Eyes locked on Kyungsoo’s, Jongin gestures like he’s going to kiss his own thumb.

“Oh. Okay.”

Kyungsoo puckers his lips and lightly kisses his own thumb while Jongin does the same, their linked hands the only thing separating their mouths. Their eyes are level with each other, and Jongin’s honey-brown irises glimmer with the glow of the TV beside them. Should it feel this intense? Kissing one’s own thumb? Kyungsoo can feel the warmth of Jongin’s breath wafting over their knuckles and onto his cheek, and the air feels so heavy with intimacy all of a sudden… With his next blink, Kyungsoo backs his face away, realizing this pinky promise has lingered for upwards of a dozen seconds.

Jongin lets their hands fall down to his lap but doesn’t let go of Kyungsoo’s pinky. “Hyung,” he says.

Kyungsoo swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

“I'm not gay.”

Kyungsoo snickers at the very on-brand non sequitur. “So you've told me.” He turns to face the show. What were they watching again?

“I'm not gay. But I really want to kiss you right now.”

“What?” Startled, Kyungsoo turns to stare at Jongin, expecting to see him joking, but his face is surprisingly passive. Not passive - _longing_. “Jongin, that's... that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not.” Jongin’s hooded eyes roam from Kyungsoo’s lips to his eyes and back to his lips.

“Because you might not be gay, but I very much am and--”

“Do you think I'm attractive, Soo?”

Kyungsoo scoffs. “You're the least shy person I've ever fucking met, you know that?” He tries to deflect with humor. But Jongin is undeterred.

“Do you think I'm attractive, hyung?” There’s a low plea in Jongin’s voice too sincere to ignore.

“Anyone would think you're attractive,” Kyungsoo murmurs reassuringly. And because the question invites him to look, to _really _look, Kyungsoo gives himself the rare permission to let his eyes wander over all of the beautiful planes of Jongin’s face. The sharp cheekbones, the elegant jawline, the space where his dimple would be if he were smiling right now... Kyungsoo's eyes drift back up to soft almond ones that are watching him intently.

“Can I kiss you, Soo?”

He should say no. He needs to say no.

“Yeah.”

Jongin winds Kyungsoo’s hand, still grasped by the pinky, around the curve of his back, placing it so that Kyungsoo’s holding him by his hip. Like he wants Kyungsoo to be touching him but knows that Kyungsoo might not without encouragement. For all of Jongin’s usual brashness, bursting through doors and shouting over shows, he seems determined not to rush this. His every movement seems gracefully choreographed, carefully arranging their limbs and stroking Kyungsoo’s hair back before settling his warm, tan palm on the back of Soo’s neck. Jongin brushes his thumb lightly over the soft hairs there, making Kyungsoo tremble from the intimate touch.

“See, the truth is,” Jongin murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, lips tantalizingly close but still a breath away from Kyungsoo’s, “that I’ve thought about doing this a lot.” He brushes the tip of his nose along the length of Kyungsoo’s, and reflexively, Kyungsoo tightens his grip on Jongin’s hip, pulling him closer. “And I was kinda confused what that meant.” Kyungsoo thinks he might burst, the anticipation building so strong he feels almost out of breath, heart racing and chest heaving, pupils dilated and wanting as he watches Jongin stare at him, taking in his aroused state. “But I’m not confused anymore,” Jongin confesses.

He closes the space between them and kisses Kyungsoo, soft but sure, and Kyungsoo’s heart positively explodes. It’s a simple kiss, only a few seconds, but the confidence behind the way Jongin presses their mouths together is beyond sexy, pulling an involuntary whimper from deep in Kyungsoo’s throat. Their lips separate with a soft smacking sound as Jongin pulls back, enough to look at him but still hovering in his space, warm palm steadily anchored on the back of his neck.

“You gonna leave the country for four years again?” Jongin gives him a half-cocked smirk, and Kyungsoo lets out a soundless 'hah.'

“Maybe,” he whispers, chest heaving. Might have to if he embarrassingly comes in his pants right now.

“What if I kiss you again? Am I running the risk of making it eight?” Jongin is nuzzling against his cheek, warm breath ghosting over his skin, lips dancing so so close, and it’s playing havoc on Kyungsoo’s senses.

“No, I think it reduces the exile, actually.” Kyungsoo licks over his lips nervously, and has his breath stolen away as Jongin kisses him again, a little harder this time, with an _intent_.

“Did that take it down to three years, then?” Jongin asks when he breaks the kiss, brow quirked. 

“Hmmm,” Kyungsoo pretends to think, even though he has nary a thought in his head while Jongin is staring at him with a twinkle in his eyes. “No, it only went down by a month.” He’s not sure where his audacity is coming from, but he hopes it works, because he _needs _Jongin’s lips back on his, stat.

“Then I’ll have to kiss you a lot. To make sure you stay.”

When he kisses him this time, it starts slow, and almost seems like it'll be brief again, but then Jongin tilts Kyungsoo’s head back a little more, his thumb stroking down the cord of Kyungsoo’s neck to elicit a quiet gasp, and they really fall into it. Jongin slips his tongue into Kyungsoo’s inviting mouth, and any self-restraint Kyungsoo was trying to hold together goes right out the window, as he latches onto Jongin’s bicep with his free hand to tug him closer, closer still, and sucks on his tongue and then lower lip with fervor.

The groan that Jongin releases is the most arousing sound to ever hit Kyungsoo’s ears. It emboldens him to nip at those thick, soft lips he’s spent countless nights admiring in the glow of the TV while Kdrama protagonists save the world and get the girl. It’s like he’s suffered two months of slowburn second-lead syndrome and is in disbelief he’s actually here, kissing Jongin, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

Jongin’s hands roam, eager to touch any exposed skin. They glide down Kyungsoo’s neck, across his bare forearms, and then slip along his waist inside his shirt to dance across the sensitive skin of the small of his back. They gasp and groan in quiet replies to each other, the light sounds exchanging between their hot mouths amidst the brush of lips and tongues.

Some minutes later, Jongin slows things back to closed mouths and a final soft press before he releases Kyungsoo’s lips.

Kyungsoo feels woozy when his eyelashes flutter open, drunk on arousal and the lingering feeling of Kim Jongin’s touch all over. His hooded eyes take in a lustful looking Jongin, admiring the mess he’s made of Kyungsoo.

“Can we… maybe do more than kiss?” Jongin asks.

He doesn’t need more of an invitation than that. Kyungsoo nods vigorously and presses Jongin to lie flat against the couch, kissing him eagerly while letting his hand trail down Jongin’s midline, skating over -- oh God, these _abs_ \-- and all the way down to gently cup Jongin’s dick.

He groans, hips lifting immediately as Kyungsoo palms him through his pants. Kyungsoo thumbs down the length of his cock and feels it firming up more and more, while Jongin clutches at him for dear life and babbles in response.

“Oh shiiitt, hyung. That feels--” he’s interrupted by his own moan as Kyungsoo grips him firmly with his thumb and forefinger, still outside his pants but putting delicious pressure up and down Jongin’s cock. “God, your hands are so-- you do it so much _stronger _than a-- fuck, I’m not trying to compare, sorry, I just-- damn you know your way around a dick, huh.”

Kyungsoo chuckles lowly at Jongin’s adorable ramblings, so quintessentially him. “It helps to have one,” he mumbles against Jongin’s ear, nibbling along his lobe while he continues to jerk him off as tightly as he can with fabric in the way. “Can we take off your pants?”

Jongin unbuttons and yanks them off with impressive speed, lying back down and looking to Kyungsoo for further instructions. It makes him feel overwhelmingly powerful, to know how much Jongin trusts him to just guide him through what’s apparently his first gay experience. Immediately, Kyungsoo knows what he wants to do. The safest bet to make Jongin feel good and still within a certain comfort zone.

He leans down and kisses along Jongin’s bare abs, reveling in how he holds his head up to watch and also accentuate the gorgeous cut of his eight-pack. Kyungsoo takes his time, lightly sucking and tonguing along them on his way down, to give him ample forewarning of where he’s headed in case Jongin wants to back out. By the time he’s nuzzling and nipping at Jongin’s belly button, Jongin has hands in Kyungsoo’s hair, petting and tugging while he eagerly lifts his hips. Kyungsoo smiles to himself as Jongin rasps out above him, “yes, please, Soo,” and finally bites the waistband of Jongin’s boxers to tug it up and over his leaking dick, exposing his cock and getting a glimpse of it for the first time.

It’s gorgeous, just like the rest of Jongin, long and lean and a beautiful shade of tan. Kyungsoo wets his lips, lifts the rigid cock off Jongin’s stomach, and looks him straight in the eye as he sinks his mouth around it.

“Oh _fuck,_” Jongin exclaims, throwing his head back into the couch while Kyungsoo works on gradually wetting it all the way to the root, getting it deeper and deeper down his throat with each slow bob. Once he’s taking him all the way in, Jongin pushes up on his elbows, like he’s dying to watch, mesmerized by the sight of Kyungsoo wrapped around him. “That feels-- so good-- fuck, so good, hyung.”

"Yeah?" He lifts all the way off the now glistening cock to press closed mouth kisses down Jongin’s long shaft, mostly for the visual appeal of it because Jongin is watching him with rapt attention, pupils so blown that his eyes look almost black. Kyungsoo gets a mess of moans in response and keeps pressing wet kisses to Jongin's dick until he reaches the base. Then, Kyungsoo drags his plush lower lip back up the side of the cock, so Jongin can see it in profile as it catches on the sensitive ridge of his cockhead before Kyungsoo swallows him back down.

Kyungsoo loves the hit of precum he gets as he works his mouth around him again. So much so, he uses the firm tip of his tongue to coax more out on his next trip up to the head, lapping obscenely at the tangy pearl that beads at the tip and enjoying the string of excited curse words spilling from Jongin’s mouth. With his big eyes locked on Jongin's lust-filled ones, he milks his cock twice more in this fashion before taking Jongin all the way back in, reveling in how extra hard his dick feels now as it glides down his throat.

He takes his time, switching between languid, rhythmic sucks and tongue play that's more designed for visual stimulation since Jongin is clearly into it, going a bit wild each time he sees Kyungsoo trace winding patterns up the side of his shaft. Finally, Kyungsoo gets to work deep-throating him with purpose, using his lips to add pulsing pressure with each suck, amping up the constricting sensation to bring Jongin closer to completion.

Jongin has fallen back against the couch again, coming undone with pleasure as he grips one hand on the back of the sofa and let’s one thread through Kyungsoo’s hair. “_FUCK_, I’m gonna-- too good, I can’t--”

Kyungsoo hums encouragingly around the cock in his mouth and uses one hand to hold down Jongin’s left hip to keep him from bucking too hard. He uses his other hand to massage gentle circles around the base of Jongin’s throbbing dick, and doesn’t stop as Jongin climaxes, hips straining in hard thrusts as his come unloads down Kyungsoo’s throat.

Only once the hand in his hair goes lax and he hears Jongin gasping for breath above him does Kyungsoo slow to a stop and let the cock slip from his lips. He pulls up Jongin’s underwear so he won’t get chills, and then collapses next to him on the couch. The room is quiet, save for their ragged, alternating breaths.

"Well holy shit."

Jongin’s arm flops down from the back of the couch to wrap around Kyungsoo’s body, and the sensation make him feel warm through and through. A nagging voice in his head reminds him, _Prepare to be disappointed._ _This might’ve just been experimentation for Jongin, don’t get your hopes u--_

It’s silenced as Jongin rolls to face him and pulls him in for a feverish kiss, setting Kyungsoo’s heart alight once more. 

“That was… I've _never_ had such a... you are… amazing, Kyungsoo,” he pants against his lips, kissing him over and over again and banishing the insecurities that have been plaguing Kyungsoo for the past several years. “God I wish you would’ve told me you liked men earlier.”

Kyungsoo lets out a light laugh. “Well, right back at ya.”

“I don’t know if I like men,” Jongin says honestly, looking Kyungsoo directly in the eye, “but I know without a doubt, I like you.”

“I like you, too. A lot,” Kyungsoo whispers in return, trying not to melt.

“Good.” Jongin seals their sweet exchange with a tender kiss, cupping Kyungsoo’s face in his hands. Their mouths can’t seem to stop once they touch, lips connecting again and again, like magnets that find their way back to each other every time they go to separate. In a short while, the kisses grow warmer, and wetter, and then Kyungsoo is being sat up against the back of the couch as Jongin scrambles down to the floor on his knees.

His eyes widen in surprise as he realizes that Jongin wants to go down on him, too. “Hey, I know you’re just figuring this sexuality stuff in your head. There’s no pressure to--”

“I know,” Jongin says, reaching to untie Kyungsoo’s sweats. “But they say everyone likes having their cock sucked, you can only _really_ know once you want to be the one sucking.” He winks at him.

Kyungsoo snorts. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in internet rumors, Jongin.”

“But hyung, I really wanna suck your dick right now.”

What’s he gonna do, say no?

\-------------

It takes Jongin a little while to figure out teeth placement, and he doesn’t have much control over his gag reflex yet, but his eagerness coupled with Kyungsoo’s horniness still makes for a mindblowing orgasm that has him practically passing out after he comes. They never make it to a bed, choosing to fall asleep right there on the couch with the colorful afghan wrapped tightly around them as they spoon.

Kyungsoo’s phone alarm blares at 7am, startling them awake.

_ Shit_, Kyungsoo groans, wiping his face and remembering what that alarm is for.

Jongin stirs when Kyungsoo gets up to turn off the alarm. “G’ morning,” he yawns.

“Morning,” Kyungsoo replies, stroking his hair.

Jongin looks around at the clothes strewn across the couch. “We really desecrated the sacred Drama Viewing space last night, huh?” he says with a smirk.

“I suppose so,” Kyungsoo grins, gathering the laundry up.

“Hey, we should do like, a drinking game with drama tropes, only instead of taking a drink each time the evil mother smiles, we should remove an item of clothing. Like… strip drama watching.” Jongin’s playful eyes light up. “Oh, I know! Let’s do it tonight for each time Ato gets all emotionally constipated.”

Kyungsoo snorts. “Hey, leave Ato alone. He wears emo well.”

Jongin rolls lazily off the couch to see what Kyungsoo is doing over by the kitchen. “Should I be jealous? Do I need to become broody and develop teleportation powers?”

“No. Stay just the way you are,” Kyungsoo mumbles, cheeks turning pink at his own cheesiness. Jongin backhugs him and trails behind him into the bedroom where Kyungsoo grabs clothes from his drawers. He sighs regretfully as he moves out of Jongin’s embrace, landing a peck on his cheek before turning to pack. “But I can’t watch with you tonight.” He loads his clothes and a bag of toiletries into the opened suitcase on his bed.

Jongin leans against the bedroom door frame and frowns. “What’s with the suitcase? I know I kissed you more than 48 times last night.”

“You sure about that?” Kyungsoo challenges.

“Positive. Especially if you count dick kisses. I counted until I hit 50.”

“Wow, how romantic,” Kyungsoo deadpans. “And here I was actually thinking about_ you _while we were kissing.” He zips the now full suitcase closed.

Jongin tackles him onto the bed and starts kissing him rapidfire, amidst giggles. “There! Bonus kisses that should keep you grounded for at _least _another six months or so.” He kicks the suitcase off the bed to the floor and lays his full body weight from chest to toes down on Kyungsoo, anchoring him into the mattress in a flirty way that makes Kyungsoo’s heart race (and dick pulse).

Gosh, this is a dream come true. Kyungsoo would glad stay pinned to the bed like this for the rest of the morning. But no matter how much he wants to, he really can’t.

“I have to go to New York for work,” he explains. “Just for a few days. The company’s having a big summit with all their translators to talk about new strategic initiatives and blah blah blah.”

“Sounds riveting.” Jongin crushes him in a tighter hug. “But you’ll miss the finale of _Miracle That We Met_,” he pouts.

“I know,” Kyungsoo plays with Jongin’s hair, feeling his chest tighten. “Hey, maybe we can watch it together virtually.”

“But you can’t pet my hair virtually if it has a sad ending. Or kiss me virtually if it has a happy one,” he pouts against Kyungsoo’s collarbone.

“How’d you manage before I moved in here?” Kyungsoo asks out of curiosity. “Did you and Taemin…”

“Nah, nothing like that. He’d let me vent, but he always loved the bad endings. He cheered over heartache. One of those who just likes to watch the world burn. You’re MUCH better company to watch with, hyung.” Jongin clings more tightly to him. They lay in each other’s arms in the quiet of the morning, stretching on for several minutes, before Kyungsoo alarm blares again. “You really have to go, huh?” he mumbles against his chest.

“Yeah, I gotta. It's been in the works for a month. My boss would fire me if I skipped out and wasted the flight." He tips Jongin's chin up to look at him and steals another kiss (or two, or three...) from his lips before regretfully sitting them both up. "I’ll be back on Sunday, before the new TvN drama starts.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

\---------------

Jet lag is a bitch. So are 14 hour flights. But having a warm boy with a blinding smile and a new drama waiting for him in his apartment is keeping Kyungsoo going. He puts one foot in front of the other down the long terminal. He tries not to grumble through customs and immigration. No, he didn’t smuggle any animals back with him. Nor plants. Nor obscene amounts of alcohol. Can he just go home now?

He rides the escalator down to the bottom floor to look for the limo bus desk. But amid the crowds in front of ground transportation, he sees him.

Jongin is standing there, dressed in a sharp black suit and looking like a million bucks. Kyungsoo’s so busy marveling at how handsome he is, it takes him a moment to notice that he’s holding a crisp placard in his hands. It reads:

VIP - Do Kyungsoo

Kyungsoo breaks into a smile, one that’s immediately returned by Jongin. He’s touched, that Jongin remembered. That he went through the trouble to indulge a silly, private wish. And at cost of having tons of strangers’ eyes on him, too.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says unconvincingly, grinning from ear to ear as he approaches.

“I know, but I wanted to. Not everyone gets a chance to be a childhood dream come true,” Jongin winks.

Kyungsoo taps on the sign. “A simple Do Kyungsoo would’ve been sufficient, though. I’m not VIP. Isn’t that a little over the top?” He’s deflecting again, using jokes to distract himself from the tears trying to well up in his eyes.

“But you are. You’re a Very Important Person… to me,” Jongin confesses.

And it’s there in the airport that Kyungsoo drops his baggage, _all_ his baggage, and let’s his heart love without fear. He wraps his arms around Jongin in a tight embrace, uncaring who may see or what they might think. They stand there, letting the busy world rush on around them, as they carve out their own little space in Incheon airport. Kyungsoo makes a mental note of which two linoleum tiles they’re standing on because this is a moment he’ll never forget, when he first felt whole again.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispers in Jongin’s ear, once he’s blinked the happy tears away. “You drove? I didn’t even know you had a car.”

“Uhh… I don’t actually. We’re still gonna need to get a limo bus.”

Kyungsoo bursts into laughter at the absurdity. “You’re a chauffeur without a car??”

“Hey! I was here, waiting for you and just for you, with a professionally printed sign and everything.” He waggles the foamboard evidence playfully in Kyungsoo’s face. “And I’ll help you with your bags! It’s the sentiment that counts, right?”

Through his fond chuckles, it just slips out. “Ah, I love you, Jongin.”

Before he can try to do something stupid like take it back, Jongin links their hands together and takes one of Kyungsoo’s suitcases. “I love you, too, hyung.

“Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> All I ever want in life is to be the afghan blanket in this story.
> 
> Prompt was originally from No One Dies This Time, Round 2, a fest that was cancelled and this fic was left half-written for ages. Thanks to the lovely mods at Best Days for letting me join the fest and giving me motivation to complete this sweet couple's journey. 
> 
> Original prompt: "neighbours au where jongin loves to watch k-drama so much and cries over them most of the time. he will always knock kyungsoo's door when he feels the need to rant about drama that he watched and kyungsoo doesn't understand why jongin rants to him out of all people but it's okay, he has a little crush on jongin anyway."


End file.
